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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23682937">Of the Divine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/marimoes/pseuds/marimoes'>marimoes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Beginning of Act 3, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Dragon Age II - Act 3, Established Relationship, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:26:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,062</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23682937</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/marimoes/pseuds/marimoes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke thinks that he should dedicate a little more time to prayer.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anders/Male Hawke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Of the Divine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Anders steps into Hightown, his first feeling is that of unease. Are they looking at him? Do they know what lies beneath his skin and in his soul? With something dangerous curled inside of him with no escape, these questions often sit in a loop inside his mind.</p><p>Turning over and over—until they don’t.</p><p>The only thing that stops them is when he’s in the presence of battle, fighting for his life. Or now, when he’s fighting a very different war with the band of Hawke’s robes, and it earns him a huff from his lover’s lips.</p><p>“Truly, I didn’t think you would continue to struggle with these. There isn’t even a belt holding them up!” Hawke fusses, tugging down on the band. As they pass his hips, a tight outline presses against his small clothes. “Something <em> else </em> is holding them up, I suppose.”</p><p>“<em>Maker, Hawke</em>. I haven’t even done anything to you yet and you’re already full mast and signaling the guards,” Anders tuts and palms over the outline, drawing a groan from Hawke’s lips, “Work has been busy this week, for both of us. I know it’s what has to be done, but I’ve missed you.”</p><p>Hawke smirks, running a hand against Anders’ cheek before kissing him. “And I you. Now, let’s not waste our time talking about how little time we have. That’s redundant and won’t get either of us off—unless that’s a kink of yours I don’t know about yet.”</p><p>Anders blows out a ghost of a laugh before pushing Hawke backwards a step. They’re still hovering a little too far out of range of the bed, and Anders can feel the blood already rushing to his ears with the thought of starting. It’s like he’s been starving all week for a particular food and no amount of home cooking can satisfy it. </p><p>Hawke grins, dimples creasing like crescent moons against the corner of his mouth, and Anders swallows. He can do this if he’s fast enough, he’s certain.</p><p>“Oh, sweetheart,” Hawke purrs, taking the last step back and his calves touch the footboard, “Did you actually think you could get me first?” </p><p>“I—” The argument cuts from Anders’ lips like it’s been cleaved by the axe leaned against the wall, and before he can reconjure it he’s flat on his back, “Hawke!” </p><p>“What, messere?” Hawke sighs, hands quickly pulling on Anders’ waist, “Are you going to keep me from my duties?” </p><p>Anders’ face burns for a moment, cheeks no doubt starting to match the gleam of red in his beard. This is where he always falters. Every single time that Hawke manages to get ahead of him, he gets this look in his eyes and this tone on his tongue that leaves Anders to melt like snow on the surmount. </p><p>It’s frustratingly attractive. </p><p>“Your duties?” Anders tries to huff and play along, hands pulling his tunic and small clothes off to toss into the floor, “What do those entail for a champion? Guard the city? Pick up some laundry that’s been cleaned?” </p><p>Hawke’s hands leave him for only a moment to tear his own tops off, discarding them on Anders’ before they’re back. His fingers are calloused from wear of battle, but worn soft, polished like a stone tossed at the docks. They may be the only thing polished about Hawke at all. </p><p>“No, I have some more personal tasks to attend to. You see, it’s been a while since I last prayed, and Andraste knows I could benefit from doing it more often,” Hawke says, hands curling beneath Anders’ ass to push him further into the bed. Little by little they move as their eyes stay locked, only stopping when Hawke’s knees comfortably sit at the end. </p><p>The feeling of silk against Anders’ back never stops surprising him. It’s cold and smooth to the touch. A complete opposite from the man who now hovers over him. He leans up to take the rough kiss of Hawke’s beard against his face, and hears his pulse quicken when a moan not born of his own lungs fills his mouth. </p><p>Hawke pulls away but doesn’t go far as his lips press kisses against Anders’ throat, working slowly towards his collar. He draws fire as he goes, a talent Anders was sure only he possessed, and wonders if Hawke is secretly a mage himself. </p><p>He goes just where Anders anticipated he would end up: nestled against his clavicle, sucking at the skin. Hawke knows all too well that it’s where his uniform rests, and that the rest of the world cannot see what lies beneath. Something he abuses nearly each time they’re together, leaving Anders to wonder if skin can be permanently bruised. </p><p>“Hawke,” Anders sighs, hands grazing up and over his biceps to rest against his shoulder blades, “You’re an absolute menace.” </p><p>The feeling of Hawke’s smile scratches against his throat before a final kiss is placed. When their eyes once again meet, the usual shine in Hawke’s are gone. Instead, lust dulls his honeyed irises and Anders flinches when he twitches up against Hawke’s abdomen. </p><p>“Well, you’ll just have to capture me one day—for the safety of the city, of course. I think Varric knows where to get some nice rope, or we can steal handcuffs from Aveline. That defeats the good in it, though,” Hawke muses as he rocks gently back and forth, letting Anders writhe as he rubs against warm skin, “what do you think?” </p><p>Anders jerks up to capture Hawke’s lips quickly, teeth tugging without relent. It pulls both a laugh and a groan from Hawke as he struggles to right himself against the bed, elbows now digging into the sheets. </p><p>Bites turn to a gentle sucking of skin before Anders’ hunger again returns. This time it’s more focused and demanding, leaving his tongue to flick out and across Hawke’s bottom lip before it’s captured. They intertwine without thought—legs, arms, and tongues—in a way that can only be described as picturesque. Like their bodies were set to fit, Maker made and all. </p><p>Still, the hunger persists, and Anders knows Hawke is dealing with his own, given the heat pressed tight between their stomachs. When they break apart it’s with a gasp from each pair of lips, followed by soft heaving for air. It’s been a while since they went under that long. </p><p>The week really wore on them both, it seems. </p><p>“So,” Anders starts, hand reaching down between them to wrap around Hawke, “what does prayer entail? I’d hate to think I’ve been doing it wrong all these years.” </p><p>Hawke nods, just twice before rolling over out of Anders’ grasp. He shifts back up to sit, legs slung over the side with his feet barely kissing the floor. With a gentle hand backwards he tugs on Anders’ ankle, guiding him to follow. </p><p>Whether by the haze of lust or curiosity, Anders obeys as Hawke dips down into the floor onto his knees. Trying to move further, Anders is stopped as Hawke holds a restricting hand to stop him at the edge. He settles between Anders’ legs, winding his hands and arms around his thighs. </p><p>“You see, it always helps when you can pray to something concrete. That’s why they have all those creepy statues at the Chantry,” Hawke explains before dipping his head to kiss Anders’ inner thigh. It causes him to jerk just a touch, but it lessens the second time Hawke does it. Slowly, he works his way towards the center and Anders’ is certain he feels him trembling in his hold. “Maker, thank you for your divine blessings. For they are warm, nurturing—and sweet.” </p><p>At that, Hawke drags a languid tongue up against Anders’ underside, and the mage is certain this is how he’ll meet Andraste. Once at the top, Hawke sighs, closing his eyes for a moment and his lips move with unspoken words against the tip. Just when Anders’ dares to open his mouth, it closes with a hiss through gritted teeth as Hawke sinks, taking him whole. </p><p>A low hum vibrates around him from Hawke’s mouth, one that holds the sounds Anders keeps locked in his chest at night. The sound of a man happy to be with him, held by his love in the furthest thing from a cage. </p><p>How he missed him, Anders doesn’t know if he can articulate it. </p><p>Mostly because he <em> can’t </em> articulate anything at the moment, due to the tight closing of his throat as Hawke’s cheeks do the same around him. Hawke, much like the rest of his life, forges straight ahead. There is not a lot of slinking around or teasing from the man, and Anders is grateful. </p><p>For if Hawke drew out his actions, Anders may not survive. </p><p>Coming up off him with a smack, a grin crawls across Hawke’s face. “You see what I mean?” </p><p>A laugh blows from Anders’ lips as his fingers find their place in Hawke’s hair, resting against his head. He knows they’ll soon move faster, that time will melt from his perception once he’s no longer alone on the bed. So, he likes to cherish these moments before the storm. </p><p>Where Hawke is demanding, yet gentle. A stirring of desire left to culminate between them before it undoubtedly bursts. </p><p>“I can see the appeal, yes. To think I’ve just been prattling off into the air all this time. You’ll have to let me attempt the same practice,” Anders says, curling his hand tighter into Hawke’s hair. </p><p>Another firm kiss on his tip is given before Hawke’s eyes find his. Whether or not the man will actually <em> let </em> Anders on him is a different thing entirely. Not because he doesn’t enjoy it, no, but simply because every time that Anders tries to focus on him, he gets impatient and turns it around. </p><p>He’s almost stopped trying to ride Hawke entirely, given how far off the bed Hawke ends up raising him, fucking him up into the air before he can even think of doing anything himself. One day he will tie the bastard up—he’ll have to. </p><p>“Well, there are different ways, you see,” Hawke says, unwrapping his arms to let his elbows rest against Anders’ knees, “Might I say that you’re the perfect example to educate on the subject?” </p><p>Anders feels red start to splotch across his face and chest. How unattractive. </p><p>A statement he doesn’t think he could convince Hawke of if he tried. Not with the look in his eyes as he presses another kiss into his thigh. Especially not, as he watches him reach for the table. Muscle memory far greater than any magic, Hawke digs a small amount of salve out of a can onto his fingers, all while continuing his trail. </p><p>“That’s going too far, my love,” Anders tries to deflect, uncertainty but a quiver in his tone, “I’m just a human, same as you, maybe not even th—”</p><p>A quick finger presses its way into him, stealing the rest of his breath, thought, and heartbeat. How Hawke manages to get the slip on him, distracting him nearly time—it’s archaic. </p><p>It’s effective. </p><p>“Anders,” Hawke says, voice lower now as he starts to raise up, “I won’t have you talking about yourself that way.” </p><p>Slowly pulling out, he pushes back in again, and with it pushes Anders further onto the bed. Again he finds himself caught on his back, trapped beneath Hawke’s hold. Not that it’s a problem in any sense. </p><p>He leans up further, hand running up Anders’ side before curling around his neck and presses a testing thumb against his collarbone. When Anders sighs, eyes lulling gently against his will as he knows what will come, Hawke starts. </p><p>It’s in times like this he again thinks the Maker a little unwise for not making Hawke a mage. For the power held in his hands is already so great, so controlled, the world would likely fall just as he does under Hawke’s touch. </p><p>Kisses are pressed against Anders’ chest, specifically placed each time with a soft murmur that he’s unsure he wants to decipher. To hear Hawke while he’s already drawing him closer to a precipice would do no good. He has to last. </p><p>When Hawke places a kiss against the scar on his chest, Anders shudders. </p><p>“You’re so strong, so powerful,” Hawke whispers before kissing it again. His fingers curl harder against Anders’ sides and a sharp gasp shoots from Anders’ lips, “You’re also very ready, hm?” </p><p>An unaimed arm smacks Hawke’s shoulder as he pulls out and Anders’ pants out a stutter. He wants to say so much, to tell Hawke that it’s ok to stop now That he doesn’t have to pretend anymore, and he’s gotten him. But something, a tight pull in his stomach tells him differently. </p><p>“You, I,” Anders sighs, eyes scanning the canopy top of the bed. When he looks back down, he finds Hawke already lining himself up, but he’s still hovering. “I love you so much, and usually the banter is my favorite part of us, but—” </p><p>Hawke falls forwards, hands pinning on either side of Anders’ shoulders and his gaze is soft yet set. “But, what? This isn’t<em> just banter</em>, Anders. I’ve told you since the first day we met that you’re beautiful, and I’d rather like for you to hurry up and realize it.” </p><p>Anders groans, unable to look away and Hawke stares, unblinking as he awaits a response. “You’re going to make me admit that I’m beautiful or you won’t fuck me?” </p><p>Hawke closes his eyes with a nod, causing Anders to groan once more. Why did he pick the stubborn one? Why did he have to walk into his clinic that day? </p><p>“Not just that,” Hawke smiles, pressing himself gingerly against Anders' entrance causing him to squirm in place, “but it’s a good place to start. Now, let’s hear it before we both go soft and have to go kill someone to get the blood going again.” </p><p>Anders inhales deeply, words tangling on his tongue as he wills himself to say things he doesn’t believe. Even if he could, it wouldn’t be enough for Hawke. He would know in a second that Anders wasn’t being genuine and would land him even worse for the wear. Hawke presses in no more than half an inch and Anders digs his heels into the bed anxiously. </p><p>“Hawke, this is,” Anders starts to complain but is met with the sensation of Hawke starting to pull out, “I’m beautiful, carved marble, ok?” </p><p>“That didn’t sound like you believed it, Anders,” Hawke sighs, and slams forwards at full hilt pulling a choke from his partner’s lungs, “but it’s a start, for now.” </p><p>Hawke thrusts twice more, slower now, and pulls breath back to Anders. Fluttering breath with the ghost of an argument held in his sighs. Anders’ hands wind into the bed beneath him, silk sliding against his skin as he’s pushed even further towards the middle with each steading trust. He lifts his leg on instinct, allowing it to hook easily over Hawe’s left shoulder. </p><p>When Hawke himself settles, hands on Anders’ thigh and waist, he almost laughs. “Maker’s breath, you have got to be the best thing he’s ever made.” </p><p>“And you the most annoying,” Anders says through strained teeth, and Hawke thrusts harder causing him to gasp out a laugh, “Andraste’s grace, we have a job to do tomorrow. Do you plan on carrying me?” </p><p>Hawke hums like he’s considering it, hips continuing to rock in a softer, steadier pattern and Anders feels his chest tighten from the whiplash. He doesn’t answer, only holds tighter to Anders’ leg as he bends him further. With his knee nearly to his chest, Anders grins with anticipation, and with a strained reach Hawke kisses it. </p><p>“I’d carry you to the end of the world,” Hawke says, kissing him once more before leaning back and thrusting forwards, “and that might just start tomorrow.” </p><p>Anders chokes out a laugh as Hawke again starts to rock. Harder and faster, their sighs turn to no noise at all other than struggling breath that hangs heavy in the small space between them. With his heel dug into Hawke’s shoulder blade, Anders feels himself start to shake. </p><p>Between that and the feeling of Hawke’s stomach nearly pinning him against his own, breathing gets harder and the air becomes thicker. His eyes pry open just barely to find Hawke’s closed. Glistened with sweat, rocking without stop, his head is hung against his chest as if in prayer. </p><p>Anders' chest winds tighter at the sight, and almost like Hawke sensed it, he lifts him up higher until he’s resting against Hawke’s thighs. It hits a spot almost instantly, sending a jerk through Anders’ body, and can swear he can hear the grin on Hawke’s face. </p><p>“H-h-h,” Anders tries to speak his lover’s name, but falls only to stutter with each thrust that finally sends him over the edge. </p><p>Hawke follows a few thrusts later, lips smacking open from the forced gasp, and they fall back to the bed. Shaking with the euphoria of coming down, Anders’ leg slides off his shoulder with a soft thud, and groans as Hawke pulls out. </p><p>He’s going to have to change the clinic’s hours against Hawke’s schedule, he has to. </p><p>When Hawke falls next to him, chest red from scars and blush, he laughs. Not like anything is truly funny, but rather that the energy in him has to go somewhere and has found its escape. It’s one of the things Anders has come to love about Hawke. Just one of many, many, things. </p><p>“Well, that was certainly worth the wait, but let’s try not to make that a habit,” Hawke sighs, running a hand across his forehead before flicking sweat into empty air. </p><p>“I was just thinking the same,” Anders agrees, and leans to press a kiss against Hawke’s shoulder. It’s heat nearly burns against his lips. “I think we could stand to pray more, as well.” </p><p>Hawke smirks, reaching to cup Anders jaw within his hand before resting his lips against him. The sweat mixes with euphoria, blends between them like a haze, and leaves them alone in a world of their own. </p><p>“That would be absolutely divine,” Hawke whispers before sealing it with a kiss. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*kisses Anders' face* Ily</p><p>Twitter: @__moes__ is main, @morriganbutnot is DA specific<br/>Tumblr: @noswordstyle</p></blockquote></div></div>
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